


never enough faith (to carry on alone)

by Doranwen



Series: Doranwen's Semi-Abandoned WIPs [5]
Category: Flood (2007)
Genre: Alpha Reader Needed, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Not Beta Read, Read at Your Own Risk, WIP, not actively being written, posted for those who like reading WIPs that may never be finished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doranwen/pseuds/Doranwen
Summary: "I won't let anyone take my place."  A grief-filled AU exploring the question: How do you live when the ones that matter most were the ones you could not save?
Relationships: Leonard Morrison & Samantha "Sam" Morrison, Leonard Morrison/Patricia Nash, Rob Morrison/Samantha "Sam" Morrison
Series: Doranwen's Semi-Abandoned WIPs [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897975
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is full of guilt, tears, and grief, particularly involving the loss of one's child. If reading such themes will cause you unwanted suffering, click the back button now. You have been warned.
> 
> Credit for this fic getting as complete as it has must be given to thedevilchicken, who listened to my endless rambling and helped me understand everything from the political structure of Britain to the workings of emergency services. As an American who's never had the opportunity to visit that side of the pond, I would have been hopelessly lost otherwise.
> 
> A good deal of this fic had to be fudged, between inaccurate canon and unknown details. I borrowed things from the book where possible, but a lot simply had to be made up. If something you read doesn't "fit" the reality as it is in London, my sincerest apologies; I hope you can enjoy the fic (what there is of it) anyway.
> 
> Title borrowed (with permission) from this fanfic poem: http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/wrfa/viewstory.php?sid=1385&chapter=1
> 
> In case you missed the tags: This is unfinished. It is not being worked on. It may always be unfinished (unless someone really wants to see it finished and is willing to do a lot of chatting with me to help that). You have been warned; don't expect any more of this fic to be posted (though you can always hit the Subscribe button; one never knows what might happen!).

Patricia Nash slipped her arms into the sleeves of her coat before pushing open the door to the outer room of the building which had been co-opted into COBRA 2. With the clear skies, away from the camera feeds of death and destruction, it was hard to believe what had transpired the previous night.

Professor Morrison walked silently next to her until partway to the entrance. He turned to face her. "I'll do my best to ensure this plan succeeds."

She gave him a small smile. "Thank you, and good luck."

"You too." He looked at her for a moment before offering a hug.

Patricia held back the threatening tears once again as she accepted, fighting the temptation to lean into him and hide from the world for the next hour. She forced a smile to her face and watched him enter the helicopter before she turned to go.

Back inside, she located her assistant again. "Penny? Any word on the girls yet?"

"No, ma'am, but there's still lots of people who've not been picked up yet. They're probably sitting somewhere wondering why it's taking so long."

Patricia pressed her lips together and nodded briefly, trying to smile again. If she tried to smile, it was harder to cry, and she could **not** give herself that freedom yet. _Please be safe_ , she begged them mentally. "Can you get me an update from the Casualty Bureau?" she asked Penny.

"Right away, ma'am."

She took a deep breath as she sat down next to Fuller. "OK, let me see the model again."

* * *

Sam could hardly think, terror clutching at her. "Rob, I'm asking you…" her voice trailed off.

He slipped a hand up to brush against her cheek. "It's our only choice," he told her, pulling her into a sudden hug.

Sam could hardly register the feel of him against her for the last time. She stared over his shoulder blindly, clinging to him.

After a moment, Rob gently pushed her shoulders back and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her softly, then whispered "I love you" before picking up the bag of supplies.

Sam could only watch as he began to instruct his father and Commander Bryant on their roles. The commander nodded and began to prepare. "Dad?" Rob asked. "Would you do something for me?"

Leonard nodded mutely in response, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Would you look after Sam for me?"

"Of course." He paused. "Rob… I—"

"No, Dad. I know what I'm doing. If we'd listened to you all along…" He shook his head. "You did your part; this is mine." A breath. "I love you, Dad. I'm sorry it took me so long to realise it." One hug later, and Rob was soon disappearing through the door with the gear.

Sam watched his form through the window until her eyes blurred so much that she wouldn't have been able to see him even if he were still visible. Only the touch of Leonard's hand on her shoulder reminded her of what still had to be done. She wiped her eyes on her sleeves and blinked until they were clear enough to watch the computer screen. If Rob was going to sacrifice himself, she was going to make damn sure that it wasn't in vain.

* * *

Patricia double-checked the time. Twenty-five minutes until the Barrier gates **had** to be open, and communication with the team there was still out. "General, what's the latest update on the body retrieval teams?"

"The boats are in place downstream, ma'am."

"Good." When the waters washed back out to sea, so would all the bodies in them. She sighed and rubbed at the headache forming. "Penny?" she called.

"Ma'am?"

"What are the latest numbers?"

"Approximately 190,000 still unaccounted for, ma'am. Safety points have," Penny checked the last report in front of her, "900,000, with another 300,000 confirmed survivors."

"Casualties?"

"The last report from the Casualty Bureau has nearly 2,000 bodies." Grim looks met each other across the room at that statement; the number had been at 1,000 only two hours before.

"We can expect that number to rise significantly," Patricia commented to no one in particular. "General, do we have the equipment in place to clear the roads of debris?"

"On its way, ma'am. It should be there by the time the flood waters recede."

She nodded. "Good." She walked over to her 'desk' and slumped into the chair for a moment. The cup of coffee was still sitting there. She took a sip, grimacing at the cold liquid. Nothing to do but wait. The only problem was, waiting meant she had nothing to distract her mind. She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened, taking a few shaky breaths. She pressed a hand below her nose. _Not yet_ , she told herself. _Not yet._

* * *

The jets roared overhead, but Sam barely noticed the sound as she shut off the phone and slumped to the floor. It was over. They had saved thousands of lives—and she had lost the ones that mattered the most to her. Rob was dying in the over-ride room, and Frank and the rest of her crew had probably drowned in the tunnels somewhere. And who knew how many had died because the Barrier couldn't handle the water thrown at it? _I've failed them,_ she thought. She leaned her head onto her knees and began to sob.

* * *

Leonard followed Cmdr. Bryant through the access ways back to the backup control room. He knew the way better, but Cmdr. Bryant had more stamina. At this point he was so tired in body and soul that he wanted to just shut down. That was not an option he had, though, he reminded himself. The only thing his son had asked from him all those years was for him to **be** there; his final request was much the same. The least Leonard could do was honour it.

He rounded the last corner and spotted Sam on the floor. She was leaning back against the wall, staring blankly ahead. Fresh tears trickled down her face at various intervals. He began to walk over to her, and awareness came back into her eyes at the sound of his footsteps. She scrambled to her feet and wiped at her face.

Leonard hesitated as he approached. For all that she had been his daughter-in-law, he knew little more of her than he could find out online. The last time Rob had talked to him before yesterday had been at the funeral for Leonard's wife, and he'd met Sam after that. Leonard hadn't even received an invitation to the wedding. All he knew of Samantha Morrison was that she was a Canadian who had moved to London after her parents' death in a car accident, she was the top marine engineer in the country next to Rob, and she had no family left, having been an only child. He had first met her when she was a student years ago, but he had nearly forgotten who she was by the time he got the news that Rob was marrying her. The few conversations they'd had after the divorce had been awkward affairs where they both had tried to avoid mentioning Rob's name.

He drew next to her, and gently reached out to touch her arm. She lifted her gaze up to meet his, rubbing her sleeve at her nose. He allowed his eyes to fill as they had been wanting to do for the last hour, and opened his arms a little. She made a little choked noise and allowed herself to be drawn into them. His shirt and her hair grew damp long before Cmdr. Bryant finished talking with the people at COBRA.

* * *

Patricia rubbed her temples to alleviate the headache that had begun to form. "Ma'am, you need to take a break too," Penny reminded her.

"Not yet," she said, shaking her head. "I'll wait till Johnson gets back. You go take yours first." They had taken to two-hour naps in turns, rotating out their assistants as they tried to retain the ability to think clearly in bodies that had never gotten their usual night's rest. Patricia turned to Ashcroft. "Has the water reached the boats yet?"

"Latest reports indicate yes; they've pulled out another 500 bodies already. We may need more trucks."

She closed her eyes briefly. "See if there are any refrigerated lorries that can be requisitioned. They won't be delivering to the shops in the flood zone."

"Ma'am," he acknowledged with a nod.

Penny came up beside her. "Ma'am?"

"I thought you were going to take your break," Patricia said.

"Right after this. I thought I should ask—" Penny paused. "Does the laptop you brought have a recent picture of the girls on it? Just in case."

Patricia inhaled slowly. "Yes. The background picture should work." She turned away from Penny abruptly, squeezing her eyes shut and taking another shaky breath.

"Ma'am? We're having to arrest more looters now that the water's gone down."

Patricia welcomed the distraction, trying to shove Penny's words as far from her mind as possible. The girls would be fine; they had to be. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.


	2. Chapter 2

The noise was horrific, the sound of the pumps filling every part of the Barrier rooms. It had been nearly an hour that the water had been pumping out of the access routes and tunnels. Soldiers monitored the pump engines, leaving Sam and Leonard to look over the maps again.

"Where should they look?" he asked her.

Sam took a deep breath. "The boys were last working in one of the machine rooms. Probably there," she said, her finger tapping one area of the map. "And Frank?"

Leonard shook his head slowly. "The hallway where we first went in order to check on your crew," he said after a few seconds, looking away.

Sam didn't ask.

* * *

Patricia sipped at another cup of coffee. Her eyes felt like lead weights. "Is Johnson back from his break yet?" she asked, glancing around.

"Not yet, ma'am," answered the woman who had taken his place.

"What's the latest on the roads?"

The woman—whose name Patricia could not remember just then—checked her notes. "Debris is currently being cleared off major roads in Hammersmith, Putney, Strand, Kennington, Limehouse, Greenwich, Tilbury, and Gravesend. Crews hope to progress to"—she scanned the page in front of her again—"Fulham, Clapham, Westminster, Vauxhall, Deptford, Wapping, and Grays in a few hours. Fortunately the ground rises more quickly on the south bank toward the east, so they should make good progress there." She glanced up to meet Patricia's eyes. "It's going to take some days before all roads are passable, though. Emergency corridors are being cleared in other areas so survivors can be taken to hospitals or safety points as soon as possible, but for now most rescue teams are having to proceed on foot."

Patricia nodded. "General, what's the latest status of the retrieval teams?"

The general looked as tired as she felt. "Overwhelmed, I'm afraid, ma'am. There are thousands of bodies washed into the estuary, and more drifting downstream. It'll be days before we can retrieve them all."

Patricia pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. She turned to the young woman who was acting as her assistant during Penny's break. "What are the latest numbers?"

"150,000 unaccounted for, 940,000 at safety points, and … 3,000 casualties."

"Three thousand already…" Patricia repeated, unable to continue.

"Yes, ma'am. They're running out of space to put them." The woman looked at Patricia hesitantly.

Patricia closed her eyes for a moment, then turned to the deputy prime minister. "Sir, could we requisition some buildings for mortuaries further downstream? With the numbers, it's going to be weeks, perhaps months, before all of them can be identified and released to the families, as far as possible."

He nodded. "I'll make arrangements to locate suitable buildings in Southend-on-Sea."

She gave him a short nod, lifting her cup to take another sip of coffee. "Next scheduled briefing in 20 minutes." She picked up a report and studied it, even as the text began to swim in front of her eyes.

* * *

"Access routes are clear!" called a soldier.

"Let's get the final door open now," Cmdr. Bryant ordered. The men picked up a stretcher and disappeared through the nearest doorway.

"I can't—" Sam said, turning away. Her voice cracked on the words, and she rubbed at her nose again.

Leonard swayed a little, then reached out his hand, palm up. Sam took it without hesitation, looking at him with a question in her face. He gently tugged her over till they stood against the wall, then he let go to ease himself to the floor. A small groan escaped his lips as muscles protested. "We should rest while we can," he told her, closing his eyes as she slumped to the floor next to him. The pumps had been turned off; their engines leaving empty space everywhere the noise had filled. The only sounds he could hear were their breathing: his slow and steady, hers quiet, punctuated with heavy catches in the airflow.

* * *

Exhausted as she was, the hour Sam felt had passed was likely closer to thirty minutes or less when the sound of the soldiers returning met their ears. Sam lifted her head from where it had leaned against the wall and opened her eyes to see the sight she had dreaded. Rob's body lay on a stretcher that was being lowered to the floor in the middle of the room.

She barely took notice of the soldiers discussing the next location, as her eyes gazed upon the form of the man she loved. She got up to kneel next to him, stretching her fingers to brush against his hair. "It should have been me," she whispered.

"No," Leonard said from behind her. "I should have gone, should have stopped him. You were both young; you had each other…" his voice trailed off. "Forgive me, Sam."

She tried to speak, but only an inarticulate sob escaped from her throat. She stood up, turned, touched his shoulder, tried again. "There's nothing to forgive," she murmured.

She'd thought she'd drained her reservoir of tears by then, but when the soldiers brought back Frank's body, more streamed from her eyes. The wound in his chest caught her gaze; a moment later, so did Leonard's profile. His head was bowed, looking away. "It wasn't your fault," she told him through her tears. She grabbed for his hand and squeezed. "It wasn't your fault."

He squeezed back, then haltingly found his seat on the edge of the stairs. When Sam sat down next to him, he extended his arm out, and she moved under it. A week ago such an interaction would have been beyond awkward; now it felt like the most natural thing in the world. She leaned into him, closing her eyes as the weariness overtaking her outweighed the desire to cry. The noise of the soldiers moving about faded into a blur until it was time to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

Patricia surveyed the faces in front of her. The deputy prime minister had finally taken a break, and Johnson had returned. He still looked exhausted, but seemed to have a little more energy than before. "How are we doing?" she asked.

"It's slow going, I'm afraid, ma'am," he replied. "Much of the debris has bodies trapped in it, so they can't simply push it to the side of the road without checking. Major routes in Kennington and Strand are almost cleared, though."

"That's good to hear." She turned to Ashcroft. "Anything of note?"

"No, ma'am. Teams are still pulling out bodies, and navy ships are stationed further out to make sure none escape the boats."

She turned to Penny. "Latest numbers?"

"130,000 unaccounted for, 955,000 at safety points, and casualties are up to—" she checked the paper in front of her to confirm, "5,000. Mortuaries have been set up in Southend to handle the bodies retrieved downstream."

Patricia was too tired to feel anything at the number except an intensifying of the dread in her stomach.

"Ma'am?" a soldier asked as he approached. "You wanted to know when the team from the Barrier returned."

"Thank you." She turned back to the table. "Next scheduled briefing … 30 minutes."

"Ma'am?" Johnson addressed her as he walked over. "Have you taken a break yet?"

"I will," she promised, "in a little bit."

"Don't wait too long." His eyes held concern for her, but Patricia couldn't process it. She turned away, sinking into her chair and sipping another cup of coffee without tasting it.

* * *

Leonard maintained a careful grip on Sam's elbow as they walked inside the building housing COBRA 2. Her eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion showing in every line of her face. Leonard felt like he wasn't too far behind her, but having been spared the physical ordeal of surviving the river, he had a few reserves yet before collapsing. She stumbled a little, and he wrapped his arm around to grasp the elbow on the opposite side. Her head sank onto his shoulder loosely, and rested there when they stopped in the middle of the room. There were fewer people than when he had arrived the first time, and the activity seemed muted somewhat.

Commissioner Nash rose from her chair and made her way to him. "Professor Morrison," she greeted.

"Leonard, call me Leonard." After the events of the past twelve hours …

"Leonard," she acknowledged, and met his eyes. She looked as tired as he felt. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said, resting her hand on his forearm and gently squeezing it.

He pulled his arm back enough so that their hands met, and squeezed hers in response. He took a deep breath and released it. "Is there anywhere we can rest? Sam …" he trailed off, tilting his head toward the woman leaning on him.

Commissioner Nash nodded. "They're setting up camp beds in some of the side rooms." She turned to a passing soldier. "Can you find a private room for them to rest?"

"Yes, ma'am. If you'll come with me, sir, ma'am," the young woman said. She guided them through several sets of doors and down a hallway. The room that she finally led them to was small. Two camp beds lay side by side, with room for one more at most, and a lone chair sat near the door. "I'll bring pillows and blankets right away."

Leonard led Sam over to the farther bed. "Sleep," he told her, gently pressing down on her shoulders. The soldier was back in no time with the promised items, and he draped a blanket over Sam as she pulled the pillow under her head. He looked over at the other bed. It was inviting, but … "I'll be back," he told Sam. She gave a slight hum of acknowledgment, but was nearly asleep before he left.

Back in the main room, he sought out the commissioner again. "Commissioner," he called to her back.

She turned. "Call me Patricia," she said with a half-smile.

He matched it. "You look as tired as I am. If that is the case, you can't be doing anyone any good here."

Patricia's eyes closed for a moment and she sighed a little. When she opened them, they were suspiciously bright. "My girls …" her voice choked for a second. "They haven't found them yet."

Leonard lifted his hand to her shoulder. "It won't help them if you collapse before they're found."

She nodded. "In a few minutes."

"Don't wait too long," he admonished, as her assistant came towards her.

"Ma'am, have you taken your break yet?"

Leonard hoped the second argument would be more effective than the first, and caught the attention of the young woman who had led him to their room. "Could you set up another camp bed in the room?"

"Of course, sir."

He sank into a chair to wait for a few minutes. Patricia's assistant didn't seem to be having any more luck than he had. He rubbed his temples.

* * *

"Ma'am," Penny said, "You need to take a break like the rest of us."

Patricia sighed again. "I will, just a few more minutes." She turned away, forestalling a further argument. She **was** exhausted, and she wasn't thinking very well, but the thought of trying to sleep when she didn't know… She swallowed hard and picked up another report.

The trouble with having this many displaced people was twofold: they needed enough supplies and enough organization. The organization was mostly there, thanks to the emergency personnel who had set up tents, camp beds, and feeding stations, along with staffing information booths to gather names and other such information from each survivor. The supplies, on the other hand, were more difficult. She rose from her chair and went to find Ashcroft. "The safety points south of the river are running low on food; how are we doing on getting new supplies in?"

"Still on the way, ma'am. They should arrive within the hour."

"Good." As she turned away, her eyes caught sight of Penny again, answering the phone.

"Are you sure?" she could hear Penny say.

Something in Penny's tone of voice set all of Patricia's senses to high alert.

"Thank you for letting me know. I'll pass it on." Penny hung up the phone and turned to face Patricia. "Ma'am?"

In that moment, the world ceased to function. Patricia's eyes stopped registering anything except the somber look on Penny's face. The noise of the room faded into a dull murmur, leaving the blood thudding in her ears abnormally loud. A wave of coldness swept over her. "No," she whispered.

"I just got a call from the Casualty Bureau," Penny began, her voice beginning to waver.

"No, oh God, no." Patricia pressed her hand to her nose as tears started to creep into her eyes.

"It's Claire." Penny's eyes filled also. "I'm so sorry."

Patricia took a shaky breath. "And Emma? What about Emma?"

"There was no word yet on her."

Patricia closed her eyes. "I told them to stay together." She opened them again, but could barely see Penny through the tears. Her next words were barely a whisper, as her throat constricted. "I told them to stay together…"

Vaguely she could hear Penny trying to speak some sort of consoling words, but all the sounds were jumbled to her ears. She raised her hands to her face, shaking. Large hands gently gripped her arms and guided her, and she recognized the blurry image of Leonard. She followed the hands pulling her through the halls till they came to a small room.

Leonard said something, and the door behind her closed. He gathered her into his arms and began to rub her back.

She clutched at his shirt, gasping for air in between sobs. Time lost all meaning as she leaned against him, soaking his shirt with her tears.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been years since Leonard last had a woman in his arms. Now, in one day he'd had two, both of them weeping. The strangeness of it was already wearing off. She clung to him as if for dear life, her face buried in his shoulder. His hand smoothed the fabric on the back of her dress in slow circles.

Patricia's crying had mostly died down when her knees buckled. Leonard caught her under the arms, lifting her back upright. She swayed a bit, staring blankly with swollen eyes, and he glanced around. Had he not been so drained, he never would have considered the action he was about to take, but at this point he had lost all ability to care. He led her over to the one chair in the room and gripped her shoulders to keep her from collapsing as he sat down. It took only the slightest of tugs to draw her onto his lap. She lay her head on his shoulder, burying her nose against his neck, and he slipped his arms around her securely.

Within a few minutes, Patricia's breathing evened out. Leonard tightened his hold on her slender frame and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

* * *

Sam's first hint of awareness was the observation that she wasn't in her usual bed, nor wearing her usual pyjamas. For a few blissful seconds that thought was her only concern, until the events of the previous day pushed themselves to the front of her mind. _Rob…_ She opened her eyes, blinking a little to clear the moisture that had started to gather. She began to turn her head, then stopped in puzzlement. Leonard sat sleeping in the chair—with Commissioner Nash on his lap, cradled in his arms. Sam sat up, shaking her head in confusion. She eyed her bed. If she could sleep longer, she would, but sleep would not come easy now. She might as well wander.

She only vaguely remembered coming down these halls earlier in the day. She backtracked through her foggy memories and found herself walking back into the command centre. Commissioner Nash's assistant— _Penny_ , Sam remembered—glanced up from the computer she was looking at and immediately stood to make a beeline for Sam.

"Miss Morrison, I see you've had some rest. Have you had something to drink recently?"

Sam shook her head, and was promptly guided to a station with various beverages. She poured herself a cup of water. Coffee would only make her more alert; what point was there in that? She realised Penny had been trying to ask her something. "Hmm?"

"How is Commissioner Nash?" Penny repeated.

"Oh, uh, she's asleep." Sam wasn't sure what to say.

Penny looked relieved. "Good." Her eyes squeezed tight for a couple seconds, then opened.

Sam recognized that look right away. "What happened?"

"The Casualty Bureau … they found one of her daughters."

Sam hadn't even realised that she had blamed the commissioner a little for Rob's death until then; the news left her floundering. How could she blame someone who had lost as much as she had? Her shoulders slumped even further. The only one she could really blame was herself. If she'd thought ahead better, or if she'd gone herself…

"Miss Morrison?" Penny was asking again. "Have you had something to eat?"

Sam shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"That may be, but you still need to eat something." Penny turned to address a soldier. "Please take Miss Morrison to get some food, and make sure it gets into her."

"Come this way, ma'am," the young woman beckoned, and Sam followed blindly. What did it matter, anyway?

* * *

Leonard cracked his eyes open. The stiffness in his neck reminded him of how unwise it was to fall asleep while sitting upright in a chair. The next thought was that if it meant holding a beautiful woman in his arms like that, it might be worth it. The third thing that came to mind was the memory of that morning, and he closed his eyes again. Countless years had been spent trying to win back his son's affection, only to lose him forever within a day of regaining it. The pain was a suffocating blanket, pressing the air out of his lungs. But he didn't have the luxury to wallow in his grief, he reminded himself, not yet. Not as long as someone depended on him.

He opened his eyes once more, looking down at the woman sleeping in his arms. Out of the corner of an eye he spotted a dark wisp of hair that had escaped its confinement; he reached one hand up and tucked it behind her ear. An inarticulate sound escaped her lips by his neck.

He expected her to, upon waking, sit up and get off his lap quickly. She would be embarrassed or trying to dodge the subject, he thought. Instead, he could feel her become very still for a moment, then relax again, nose still pressed against his collarbone. The sound of quiet breathing reached his ears, and he brought his other hand up to stroke her back from shoulder to shoulder. The steady movement soothed him, and a little of the overwhelming pressure lifted.

"She turned seventeen last month," Patricia said at last, her voice low. "She was looking forward to summer holidays; we were going to go to Italy." Her voice caught on the last phrase; Leonard kept his hand moving in slow, even strokes. "I moved us to Camden because the school was so good. Safe." Her breathing was ragged now. "If it hadn't been an INSET day at their school … if I hadn't let them go into town . . ."

"You couldn't have known," he told her. He tried to tell himself the same thing, but failed. He **had** been aware that trying to open the Barrier could be dangerous. Just because he hadn't known all the details until Sam had explained them was no excuse.

"Their school wasn't even flooded." Patricia was weeping now. "The schools that did flood, all of them were evacuated. I made sure **they** were safe, but my own daughters …" Each breath became a gasp in between sobs.

"They didn't find Emma, right? She could still be alive." It was grasping at hope, but it was worth a try.

There was a long shuddering breath as Patricia attempted to gain control of herself. "No," came the whisper finally. "I told them to stay together. It was the very last thing I said to her. And Claire was always the better swimmer." She sniffled, and Leonard looked in vain for a tissue nearby. "No, I've lost them both, I know it. It's just a matter of time before they find Emma too." The words _if they ever do_ lay unspoken between them; Leonard knew the possibilities as well as she did. Some bodies would vanish without a trace, lost in the massive volume of water and debris, their families left to wonder and hope until they could do so no longer.

Patricia turned her face even more against Leonard's shoulder, and he ceased rubbing her back in favor of wrapping both arms around her and simply holding her.

* * *

It seemed like an eternity that Patricia lay against Leonard's warm chest and shoulder. The tears had finally run dry, leaving a sense of numbness behind. His arms were a refuge from the rest of life. As soon as she returned to work, she would have reports, and people to coordinate, and she wasn't sure she had the energy for any of it. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and pretend the last twenty-four hours had never existed.

Leonard's arms lifted from her. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"

"Oh, yes," Patricia said, her throat scratchy and hot. She stood up to allow Leonard to exit the room. Once he'd left, she sank back into the chair, leaning her head back as Leonard had done. The oblivion of sleep beckoned, but her nap earlier had taken the edge off her exhaustion, and the coffee she had drunk would not allow her to relax completely. Her attempt to do so had only succeeded in giving her a sense of numbness when Leonard returned.

"Will you come with me?" he asked her, reaching for her hands.

She let him pull her up, and walked with him down the hallways back to the command centre. He pulled out a chair and beckoned for her to sit down, then left.

One second later, Penny was at her side. She reached out an arm to touch Patricia's shoulder, eyes moist. The girls had visited the office a number of times over the years, and Penny usually kept sweets on hand for them, as the indulgent aunt they never had. "Miss Morrison said you got some rest."

Patricia nodded.

"Good. Have you had something to drink?" Penny asked her.

"No," she replied softly.

Penny turned, presumably to find someone to bring her something, but halted at the sight of Leonard coming back with a couple of water bottles in hand. "Oh, thank you, Professor Morrison."

"I thought you might need this," he addressed Patricia, handing her a bottle as he sat down in the chair next to hers.

The water did soothe her throat some; crying had done her no favors there. After downing half the bottle, she felt like she might be able to speak normally again. "What are the numbers now?"

Penny frowned. "You need to eat something, ma'am."

Patricia waved her hand. "After. Numbers first, please."

Penny sighed. "70,000 unaccounted for and over a million at safety points."

"Casualties?" Patricia felt strangely detached from everything; nothing had any emotional reality anymore.

"10,000, ma'am." Penny's voice wavered a little on the number.

Patricia nodded. She guessed the final number could be anywhere from twenty to forty thousand; bodies were being recovered everywhere. "Anything else of note?"

"You need to eat, ma'am."

Food never sounded appealing to Patricia when her emotions were out of kilter. She'd lost at least twenty pounds in the months after John's death. Some of the families of the officers under her had taken to sending her baked goods in an effort to fatten her back up, but it was hard to muster up the appetite for them. All she'd managed to eat that morning was a slice of toast and piece of fruit from the canteen. "I'm not hungry," she said, letting her eyes drift away from the others. It was close enough to the truth.

"Neither am I," said Leonard.

Patricia lifted her eyes to meet his.

"Would you eat with me anyway?" he asked, extending his hand.

She took his hand and followed him. It was becoming a pattern, one that she was loathe to examine or question. And perhaps she could manage a salad, or a little bit of the casserole…


	5. Chapter 5

Leonard continued to hold Patricia's hand as they walked to the canteen; she made no attempt to pull away. He recognized the state of lethargy she was in; if he didn't have Sam—and Patricia, he was beginning to admit to himself—to look after, he probably wouldn't have gone anywhere but to the lavatory. When Mary died, he'd spent a week holed up in his room, then thrown himself into his work. At the time, it made an excellent distraction. But with his worst nightmares come true now, work might only serve as a reminder of who he had lost.

The canteen was reasonably busy, as it was early afternoon. He scanned the room first, stopping when he spotted Sam sitting at a table alone. "Patricia, would you mind terribly if I asked you to bring my food to the table? I'm going to talk to Sam for a moment."

"What do you want?" she asked him.

"Whatever you're having; I'll eat however much you do."

She nodded and let go his hand to join the queue for food. Leonard made straight for Sam's table, sinking into the chair next to hers. Sam's gaze rested on the edge of the table, her mind lost in thought. Leonard touched her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Sam looked up at him.

"Did you eat?"

"A little. A soldier was given orders to make sure I ate something; I didn't want to get her into trouble."

Leonard smiled a little. Half-smiles, they were; they couldn't erase the sorrow, only displace part of it. He reached over to clasp her hand in his. "Make sure you keep eating," he admonished.

Sam blinked back tears. "What does it matter? Who's left to care?" she asked bitterly. "When we were divorced… now…" she trailed off, voice catching on the words, unable to finish. She took a breath. "Everyone I ever loved … I've lost them all."

Leonard chose his next words carefully. "I can't replace any of them, but I would be honored if you would allow me to count you as my daughter." For all that he had thought of her as his daughter-in-law, since the divorce even that wasn't technically true. Certainly they had never established a relationship close enough to consider her as a daughter. But with Rob's death … _Why does it always take the greatest wounds to bring about the greatest blessings?_ he wondered.

Her eyes met his, filling with tears. She nodded, unable to speak.

Leonard opened his arms, and she leaned into them. After a few seconds he released her and said, "To answer your earlier question, **I** would care." She matched his half-smile. "I'm not particularly hungry myself, but I made Patricia come with me so I'd have to eat something."

She nodded and looked up as Patricia approached, a tray balanced in each hand. The food **was** hot, and his stomach rumbled, surprising himself with an unexpected appetite. Patricia had done a good job of getting equal portions. "Thank you," he told her as he picked up the cutlery. He lifted a bite of casserole on his fork. "Ready when you are," he said.

He was rewarded with a tiny smile from Patricia, and a matching one from Sam.

* * *

Patricia had to admit that she did feel a bit better with some food in her stomach; a small part of her admitted that the company was also a factor. She walked back into the command centre and took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do for her girls now. But there were countless other mothers who didn't deserve to worry about whether theirs were alive or not. Until the rescue efforts were over … She refused to think about what would happen afterwards. "Penny, do you have the latest reports?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Another sheaf of papers was soon handed to her. She began to glance through them, but stopped when Leonard's profile caught her corner of her eye. "Leonard?" she asked, lifting her head.

"Yes?"

"Would you be willing to work with Fuller for now? Keep an eye on anything that might affect our rescue efforts. Since Hopkins …" she trailed off.

Leonard nodded in understanding. "I will," he answered, turning to look for his temporary coworker.

Patricia swiveled her head to spot Sam, who had followed them back. "Miss Morrison," she said, then corrected, "Sam." It hardly felt right to be so formal at this point. "I'm afraid I have nothing for you to do here. The military is still guarding the Barrier, now that access is restored. How much of the electronics were destroyed by the water?"

Sam sighed, rubbing her temple. "A lot. The manual over-ride is still in place, but none of the data feeds are functioning since the control centre was also flooded. They'll need to be replaced completely. It could take weeks to get everything in place and set up properly. It depends on how fast the main system backups can be retrieved and technicians can be found to work on it." Tears began to creep into her eyes, and she closed them suddenly, turning her head and taking deep breaths for a few seconds. "I'll also need to contact the night crew and any of the day or evening crews that were off-duty at the time. Most of the regular day crew… didn't make it out." She lifted her head to meet Patricia's eye.

Patricia nodded. "Talk to General Ashcroft, then; he'll see that you get the people and supplies that you need. We need the Barrier back to normal operation as soon as possible."

"Of course, ma'am," Sam replied, then turned away.

Patricia found herself blinking rapidly before studying the reports in her hands. She could do this. She had to.

* * *

Leonard found Nikki Fuller sitting at her laptop, looking over the current map of damaged areas. "Commissioner Nash asked if I would work with you for now. Since…" He didn't know how to finish the sentence.

She pressed her lips together, glancing down and away for a moment, then nodded, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss," she finally said as she opened them, studying her hands.

It was a small gesture, but Leonard recognized it for what it was. "As I am for yours," he responded quietly.

Her eyes met his, and she gave a short nod. "You can find the laptop he was using over there," she told him before turning back to the screen.

Leonard began the process of loading the monitoring software and picked up the phone to call Malcolm. When he'd left the Environment Agency (to avoid the trouble of being asked to leave over his unwelcome theory), he'd certainly never considered the possibility of working with any of them again. Teaching had meant a different set of politics, but those were generally easier to handle.

The bitter irony was that now, having been proved correct, he could probably ask for any job he wanted. Yet there'd never been a day where he had wished more strongly that he were wrong, completely and utterly wrong. His theory had cost him his wife and son: what comfort could being right ever bring him?

* * *

Sam found herself in yet another helicopter, speeding toward the Barrier. This time she was on a mission to retrieve information—if it were still legible. For all that the Barrier information centre (containing the main offices) was highly electronic, they still kept paper backups of employee records, and this would be the swiftest method of retrieving that information, if the flood water hadn't completely destroyed it. There was a good chance, she hoped; the binder with the latest contact information was kept in a latched cupboard and the pages themselves were in sheet protectors. While it wouldn't have kept the water out, it might have kept the papers **in**.

She did not look forward to the phone calls she would have to make, once the civilian cell service ban was lifted that evening. Nor did she relish the thought of standing in the control room again without Frank and the rest of her usual crew. Frank had been there as long as she had, longer even. How could she go to work without his cheerful personality and gentle teasing? She fingered the letters of DEFIANT on her sleeve and rubbed her temples to alleviate the headache that lately never seemed to be far away.


	6. Chapter 6

Patricia looked over the latest numbers from her seat at the conference table. There were still 20,000 people unaccounted for, some of which were undoubtedly dead, and others which might not have been in the area at all; communication was still patchy at times and they didn't have the lists completely sorted out yet. Safety point numbers continued to hover around a million people; some thousands had been collected by relatives or friends, freeing up room for the new survivors still being rescued from all over. Feeding and sheltering them would be a big job for weeks to come, until homes and flats could be cleaned up and made habitable again. And the casualty list was now up to 18,000. She tried not to think of the number of funerals that would be held over the next few weeks; a part of her knew Claire would be one of them, and likely Emma, but until she could see and touch their bodies, to some extent it would feel like just a bad dream. The element of unreality was all that was keeping her going right then.

She got up and walked over to Johnson's desk. "Johnson, how are we doing with road clearance?" she asked him.

"Still clearing major routes in Pimlico, Southwark, Burough, Bermondsey, Rotherhithe, and Millwall. Crews are starting to expand to lesser roads, but it's slow going yet. Those will take longer, depending on how many bodies they find in the process."

"Do you have an estimate on the extent of damage to the Underground? Railway stations, trains, and so on?"

"We managed to run most of the trains out to depots successfully, though several had to be abandoned on the tracks. No one's gone down to check how much water is left. Given the amount of water that flooded the stations, I reckon it'll take weeks to restore most of the function to the affected areas, perhaps up to months depending on how bad the damage is." Johnson shook his head with a sigh. "We'll need to set up some form of alternate transport."

Patricia nodded. "I'll ask the deputy prime minister to request spare buses from other areas to lend us for shuttles. It's critical that we restore transport services as quickly as possible so those involved in the cleanup can get to work easily."

Johnson inclined his head in agreement before pulling up another map on his screen. Patricia walked back to her papers and sank into the chair. Her hands came to rest on the edge of it, and the tears lurking at the corners of her eyes began to threaten again. The numbness—like a drug—was beginning to wear off, and she wasn't sure she could face the pain again. She blinked to keep her vision from blurring.

In her peripheral vision, she could see Leonard take the seat next to her, much as he had that morning. This time there were no polite greetings or reassuring words. He wrapped a hand around one of hers and just held it while she fought with her body in an attempt to stave off the next crying spell. "It's time for dinner," he said when she had gained control of her tears again.

She lifted her head, her eyes holding a mute plea. Leonard turned on his chair and stood, her hand still clasped firmly in his. Slowly she stood to join him, following the slightest of tugs through the hallways and along the paths to the canteen. His hand was a solid rock in a world where the ground seemed to forever be sinking away from her.

* * *

Leonard watched Patricia idly pick at her food. He hadn't done much better, he acknowledged, casting an eye over his plate. It wasn't that the cooks had done a poor job with the pasta, either. He sighed; he'd have to eat more tomorrow. He fixed his eyes on Patricia's face, and waited for her to look up. "Shall we go?" he asked her.

She nodded, and they carried their trays to the disposal area. He took her hand as they left; holding it seemed to dull the pain that surrounded him constantly. She never offered any resistance either, instead curling her fingers around his hand in a soft but steady grip.

Partway back to the command centre, she spoke. "I'm going to announce that anyone who needs to stay here for the next week or two to coordinate things should go home and pack a bag this evening. I'll need to do that; the drive to and from Camden is a bit much every morning and evening."

Leonard thought for a moment. "I'll go with you."

Patricia shook her head. "That isn't necessary."

"I live in Barnet; it's not that far away." He was met with silence. "I can stay in the car while you go in." He wasn't ready to admit that he really didn't want to ride that long alone. As long as people were around that he had to interact with, he could avoid thinking about Rob.

Patricia studied the ground in front of her for a few moments as they walked quietly. They were nearing the main room when she lifted her head and met his eyes. "See you out front in twenty minutes?"

His answer was a squeeze of her hand and a brief nod.

* * *

Sam held the binder as she exited the helicopter and headed inside COBRA 2. She was about to enter the main room when Leonard walked through the door.

He stopped in front of her. "I didn't see you at dinner." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I was at my office." Her eyes or face must have conveyed a small part of the mood she was in, because his expression softened.

"Ah. Make sure you eat something, all right?" He lifted a hand to her cheek.

Sam had to smile a little. "OK, Dad," she agreed with a tiny bit of a teasing tone. She wasn't sure she was comfortable calling him that regularly, but this was a place to start.

Leonard smiled back. "They're sending everyone home to pack a bag if they don't live close enough to want to drive here in the morning. You should go too."

She glanced down at the binder in her arms and shook her head. "I can't; I need to call these people while they're still awake."

"Afterwards, then."

Sam nodded and proceeded into the main room. Time to find a place to spread out the soggy sheets, and a phone to make all the calls on. Hers was lost somewhere in the Barrier control rooms; she couldn't remember when she'd had it last. The water would have rendered it useless anyway.

* * *

Patricia stepped out the door of the temporary COBRA 2 headquarters to find Leonard waiting for her. A car had pulled up front, but he stood beside it, turned to watch for her. He tipped his head forwards and walked around the far side of the car.

The driver got out and quickly held the door open for Patricia. She slipped in to find Leonard already inside.

"Where to, ma'am?" the young man asked her.

She gave him the address and settled back, leaning her head wearily against the seat. Her short nap this morning had not been anything close to sufficient to make up for the lost night's sleep. Before long, her eyes began to close.

Patricia was jolted awake by her head falling to one side. She groggily shifted, trying to position herself against the corner of the door and seat so it wouldn't move. When her head began to tip a second time, she sat up and rubbed her eyes in frustration. She was **so** tired…

"Here," Leonard said.

She glanced over; his arm was extended, a clear invitation. Without any conscious thought, she found herself scooting over to lean against him. Her head sank onto his chest, and she could feel his warm arms resting gently around her. One of his hands slipped up to cradle her head securely. His fingers slid into the hair on the back of her head, and she closed her eyes again. This time no jolts of awareness occurred, and the world around her drifted away swiftly to the sound of his heartbeat under her ear.


	7. Chapter 7

Leonard had never had any difficulty falling asleep in the car, but he had forced himself to stay awake long enough to make sure Patricia was comfortable. Once she was in his arms, he followed her into slumber, and it took the car coming to a stop to wake him.

The driver looked back at them, and Leonard nodded at him, sliding his hand away from Patricia's head. "Patricia?" he said softly, rubbing her back. "We've arrived."

She slowly blinked her eyes as full consciousness returned to them. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she said as she got out of the car and went inside.

Leonard stared out the window at the evening sky. The sunset was muted and dull; it suited his mood. One of Patricia's neighbors was positioning a bin outside; the sight was incongruous with the scenes that kept flashing before his eyes. He struggled to find a mental distraction, finally settling on the next lecture he was going to give his students. He had part of it outlined in his mind when he noted that it seemed to be a long time since Patricia had left the car. He pulled out his watch, but realized he hadn't looked at it when they arrived.

"How long has Commissioner Nash been inside?" he asked the driver.

"Approximately thirty minutes, sir," came the reply.

Leonard weighed his options. "Right," he said finally. "I'll be out in a few minutes, then." He strode towards the door, slowing as he entered.

The house was somewhat homey; the entry area was neat, but there were pictures all over the walls. He stepped close to one of them, examining it. The photo had been taken in the last few years, as Patricia looked much the same. She had clearly lost some weight since; her face was more angular now. In the picture, she had her arm wrapped around the shoulders of another man, and each of them had an arm around a girl. _These must be her daughters,_ he reasoned. The man had to be her late husband; his ears had caught her reference earlier. Other than a couple photos of her with some others from work, all of them seemed to be of her daughters or husband.

Silence reigned everywhere, except for a tiny sound from upstairs. He climbed them slowly; the lack of a full night's sleep was starting to hit him like a tonne of bricks. The door at the end of the hall was partially open; he laid a hand against it to swing it further. Across the room, Patricia cradled a picture frame to her chest. Tears streamed down her face, and her eyes shimmered with them as she looked up at Leonard.

"It's been awhile. I came to see…" Leonard trailed off.

Patricia nodded, sniffling a little as she wiped her face dry. Her suitcase lay beside her, and she quickly stood, placing the photo and a few more items into it before zipping it up. "Let's go," she said, lugging the suitcase to the door.

Leonard held out his hand. He might be tired, but he wasn't so tired that he couldn't carry one suitcase. She surrendered the case to his grasp and preceded him down the stairs. It didn't take long for him to deposit the case in the boot of their vehicle, and climb back in for the ride to his house. This time he put his arm out straight away, and she leaned into his embrace without hesitation. The warm press of her body grounded him, staving off the grief threatening to overwhelm.

The stop as his place was much more brief; within a few minutes he had packed the necessary items, and they were on their way back. Patricia fell asleep easily, but for Leonard, sleep was slow in coming. The image of Rob's body, lying still on the stretcher, kept coming to his mind's eye. It took a few minutes of quietly watching Patricia breathe before he could fight off the tears enough to relax into slumber.

* * *

"I'm very sorry for the inconvenience," said Sam to the umpteenth person in a row. "Yes, that's right. The shuttle will leave here at seven o'clock in the morning. Be here at least a half hour before that so you can get your things situated. I'll make sure they clear you for parking and have a room ready. Thank you." She hung up the phone and sighed. That was the last of the morning crew. Then there was the evening and night shift workers. The electrical engineers were already on their way to do an assessment of the damage, and to ascertain what parts they would need to repair the many electrical connections that gave Barrier workers full control over the site.

Using the phones was difficult; the cell networks were overloaded and she'd heard that at least one of London's major telephone exchanges had been flooded and millions of phone lines lost. Even with their dedicated lines, the others at COBRA 2 had had trouble reaching family members at times. Sam stared at her hands for a moment; she had no one to call.

She slid the next damaged sheet in front of her, copying the blurred numbers onto a fresh sheet of paper. She was about to pick up the phone when an awful thought hit her: had Leonard thought to let Kate know about Rob? Was he listed in the casualty list yet, even? She swallowed hard and got up to look for someone who could tell her when Leonard might return.

* * *

"Here," Leonard said as he handed Patricia's suitcase to her.

"Thank you." She hesitated for a moment, ducking her head and turning away from him before finally saying "Good night", her eyes still not meeting his.

He wished her a good night as well, the words more perfunctory than heartfelt, then pulled his own case out of the boot. The bed in his assigned room might not be as soft as his own, but it was horizontal. He was halfway there when he heard his name called. He turned to see Sam walking towards him. "What is it?" he asked her.

"I was thinking…" she trailed off, looking away and biting her lip.

Leonard touched her shoulder gently. "What is it, Sam?"

She blinked hard before looking at his face. "Did you tell Kate? About Rob?"

His heart sank as he lowered his hand. He had done it again, thrown himself into work at the expense of family. "No. No, I didn't." He closed his eyes briefly.

Sam nodded. "I'll do it," she offered.

He shook his head. "It's my responsibility. I need to do it."

"No, you need to sleep. Let me, please." She stared at him, eyes glistening as she rubbed the sleeve on her wrist across her nose. "I—" she began. "I need to. The Barrier was my responsibility, don't you see?" Her voice cracked.

He couldn't speak, reaching for Sam's hand instead and squeezing it. He released it and accepted the small pad of paper and pencil she handed him. He blinked back tears as he wrote the number down and handed the items back to her before stumbling almost blindly to his room. His evening tasks were performed through blurry vision, which became even blurrier as he lay down. He could find nothing to stall with anymore. In the solitude of his small accommodations, Leonard wept until his head ached.

* * *

Sam slowly sat down, placing the slip of paper with Kate's number in front of her. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat before picking up the phone and dialing. A part of her wanted to reach Kate's voicemail, to leave a message telling her to call back later; an excuse to put off the inevitable. There was a strange sense of relief when Kate's voice came on the line.

"Hello?"

"Kate? It's Sam Morrison."

"Oh, thank God! Rob told me that Dad was at the Barrier with him; you were there too, right?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"I've been trying their numbers since yesterday evening but they've just gone straight to voicemail, and then the cell service was down all day today. Are they all right?"

Sam swallowed a lump that was starting to grow. "Leonard's fine; he's gone to bed already. I told him I'd call you instead."

Kate was a smart woman; she didn't have to be told to read between the lines. "Rob, what about Rob?" A note of worry laced her voice.

"I'm so sorry, Kate; Rob … this morning … he was a hero," Sam finally choked out. "Someone had to sacrifice themselves to make it work; Rob volunteered." There was little point going into the details now.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line. "It can't be. He talked to me just yesterday."

"I'm so sorry," Sam said again. She rubbed her nose. "I'll let you know when arrangements are made."

"OK." Kate sounded in a daze.

Sam hung up the phone and wiped her eyes before picking up the sheet with the last few numbers on it. These folks were normally awake at this hour; reaching them should be easier. She yawned and sighed; she normally **wasn't** , and she was **so** very tired. She took another deep breath to try and clear her head, then began to dial again.


	8. Chapter 8

Leonard lay still as his mind struggled free from the fog of sleep. For a few blissful moments, the only thought he had was a slight puzzlement as to where he was and why. But soon the awful weight of memory crashed down on him, and he slowly began to prepare himself for another day of weather work.

His muscles felt like lead weights were attached to them. Each task seemed to take twice as long, and he had lost all track of time when he finally emerged into the control centre. Patricia was already at work, reviewing reports. He walked over to her desk and waited for her to look up. "Did you have breakfast already?"

She sighed, setting the papers down. "I'll be back in a while," she called to Penny.

Leonard extended his hand to Patricia. At some point he expected her to shake her head and refuse, but maybe a part of her felt the way he did: as long as they didn't discuss it, it would continue. The only thing he was prepared to acknowledge was that it helped him feel a little less adrift. He clasped his hand around hers and pulled gently as she got up.

Neither one spoke during their short meal. Leonard took a standard sized helping of his usual choices, but he didn't remember tasting any of it. Patricia picked at her food until he finally noticed. A light brush of his fingers on the back of her hand and a tip of his head towards her plate resulted in another sigh from her, but she ate a few more mouthfuls.

Back in the control center, he managed only a brief nod to Fuller as he sat down and began to look over the weather for the region. The day before had been clear and beautiful, a much-needed reprieve from the rain that had poured in. If they were lucky, they'd have clear skies for the rest of the week. While evacuation was over at this point, teams were still retrieving bodies all over the place, and there was a lot of work to do in repairing everything from transportation systems to crucial buildings such as Whitehall.

He scanned the weather systems in the region and sighed. Whatever fortune had once graced them, it was rapidly slipping away. "Looks like a storm's brewing," he commented to Fuller.

She wheeled her chair over to look at his computer. "Oh, that one. It's going to blow itself out before it reaches us. A bit of rain for Reading but nothing to worry about."

Leonard frowned. "The intensity doesn't suggest that. I think there will be at **least** a mild drizzle here by nightfall, if not more." He pulled up a different data feed. "More like a steady stream."

Fuller shook her head. "There is no point in alerting people over a little rain. This isn't a storm surge, you know."

He pressed his lips in a thin line. "And when we did have one, you thought it wasn't a danger to central London."

She turned her cool gaze on him. "For how many years did you tell us 'this could be it' and it never was? You think **every** storm is going to be a problem."

"Because when they are, people die. My son might be alive today if I'd been taken seriously when it mattered."

Leonard hadn't noticed their voices raising in volume until Patricia interrupted them. "My **daughters** are dead because the warning didn't go out in time," she said, almost spitting the words out. "Think about that next time you want to dismiss a storm as nothing to worry about." She paused, froze for a moment, then murmured "excuse me" as she ducked her head and went out of the room.

Patricia's outburst had captured Leonard's gaze; now out of the corner of his eye he spotted Fuller at her desk. She was hunched over, her face in her hands. His mind went blank and he sat still for two seconds before getting up and following Patricia outside, almost on autopilot. She leaned against the wall of the building, staring at the city skyline in the distance. He picked a spot a few feet away and leaned back against the building also.

The words that came out of his mouth next surprised him. "She's right, though; most storms aren't anything to worry about."

"You're not the one who has to imagine your girls dying from it, terrified, without even a chance to say goodbye. Your son knew what he was doing." Patricia's tone was bitter, angry.

Leonard inhaled sharply, looking away. He slowly pushed off the wall and began to walk back inside.

"Wait!" she called.

He stopped, not turning around. He closed his eyes. A gentle touch on his arm opened them again.

Patricia stood in front of him, studying the ground for a moment. She lifted her eyes to meet his. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault." She took a deep breath. "I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you."

"Or Fuller," he pointed out.

She closed her eyes for a few moments, as if to derive some strength from the action. She sighed and nodded.

They stood in front of each other a bit awkwardly for a bit before he lifted his arms from his side a little. She stepped into their circle, wrapping hers tightly around him. He rubbed her back in a slow, steady rhythm for several minutes before she pulled away.

The mood in the control centre was subdued, and several heads turned to watch them walk back in. Patricia took another deep breath and walked over to Fuller's desk. "I'm sorry; my words were unacceptable."

Fuller had her head down, hands lying in her lap. She nodded briefly without looking up.

Patricia turned to make for her desk, shoulders slumped. Leonard caught one of her hands and gave it a light squeeze. He was answered with a ghost of a smile, which he returned as he released her hand.

He continued to his chair, taking a slow breath before turning to Fuller. "You're right." She gave no sign of having heard him as she examined some figures. "It isn't your fault, you know."

Her hands stilled. "If I'd pushed for an alert earlier—"

"You still couldn't have known that **central** London would be at risk, not without my model. And I didn't help matters any by quitting the Agency." Leonard pulled up the map and checked the weather readings. "Intensity already decreasing a little, as you said."

She met his eyes and nodded once as an acknowledgement.

They turned back to their respective displays, as a memory came to Leonard unbidden. _"Well … looks like you were right,"_ he heard Rob say. He closed his eyes, hoping the tears wouldn't escape. _Not always, Rob. Not always._

* * *

The bench, almost hidden from the pathway, caught Sam's eye as she walked slowly back from dinner. The worst part of setting up a regular schedule was that her evenings were free. Some of the soldiers and other personnel had set up a social hall for cards and ping-pong, and teams for various sports had been hastily thrown together, but none of it held any interest to her. The bench was inviting, though, and it had a lovely view of the city skyline. A gentle breeze caressed her face as she stared out, wondering how many others there were like her. People who had lost those they loved to this flood. The latest number she'd heard was at least 30,000 casualties, most from areas such as the Docklands. The water had covered the entire area, and the trains had only managed to evacuate a small number. And despite warnings to get to high ground, far too many people had failed to recognize that the second floor of a building would work.

Sam was brought back to reality swiftly when she saw Leonard walking towards her. He eased himself down onto the bench, and it suddenly hit her that he looked **old**. The wrinkles in his face were more pronounced, the lines deepening. She impulsively wrapped her hand around his fingers and gave them a gentle squeeze. He squeezed back and smiled fondly at her.

Tears came unexpectedly to her eyes, and she let go of his hand to to wipe them away.

"I've had different reactions when I smiled at a beautiful woman, but never tears," he said softly.

"You reminded me of my dad for a moment; he used to smile at me like that."

There was a pause. "Would you tell me about him?" Leonard asked.

"He was about your height, bigger around though, with a wonderful laugh. He was an electrical engineer; I think he always hoped I'd follow in his footsteps, but I had different interests, and he never pushed me. He was so proud of me when he heard about the scholarship I won to study over here." She studied her hands. "He never got to see me graduate."

"I'm sure he would be proud of what you've accomplished."

Sam smiled, and her eyes glistened at the corners.

"It sounds like he was a good father," Leonard said.

"He was; the very best."

"I wish I had— So many years I wasted. I never told Rob—" Leonard took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "I never told him I was proud of him."

"He knew." Sam grabbed his hand again and held it between hers. "He knew you loved him, that you were proud of him. And he loved you."

"I can never tell him—"

"But you still have Kate. And the baby, what's her name?"

"Elsa."

"You have Elsa. You can tell them."

Leonard looked at Sam for a long moment. "And you," he said simply.

A sob escaped from her lips, and she found herself pulled to her feet and into his arms. She clung to him as a drowning victim to a life preserver. Gradually she began to relax, but it was another minute before she released him and bid him goodnight.


	9. Chapter 9

Patricia looked over the latest report at their morning briefing. Many of the survivors had been moved to temporary housing under the purview of the British Red Cross, leaving only a small number still at the safety points. "General, how are we doing with the security situation?"

Ashcroft looked up from his own pile of reports. "The Territorial Army has all sites secured, ma'am. Attempts at unauthorized access seem to be decreasing in frequency."

She nodded. With all survivors out of the area and a curfew imposed, opportunity for criminal behavior had dwindled. She turned to Johnson. "How are we doing with the Underground repairs?"

He sighed. "Still pumping water out of some of the tunnels, ma'am. Staff are starting to inspect some of the track to see whether we can run trains a little further into the city."

"Good; that will help with the transportation situation." Traffic had to be tightly regulated by the police, as the number of additional buses running to compensate for the lack of full train service had increased congestion problems. "See you all this evening," she said as she closed the folder and returned to her desk. She had just began to review another report when Penny approached.

"Ma'am?"

Patricia looked up. Penny's face carried the same somber look as a few days before, but Patricia was too numb to care. "What is it?"

"They found Emma."

Patricia nodded wearily. This was no surprise. "All right."

Penny continued. "I requested that they send Claire's—body—" she choked on the word, "—to the same mortuary so you can see them together if you like. They'll be able to accommodate you this afternoon sometime."

"Thank you, I'll do that," Patricia said, and turned back to her report. What point was there in weeping over the inevitable? Everything felt like she was in a fog anyway. She rubbed her temples and refocused her eyes on the words.

* * *

Leonard had turned by chance to see Penny talking with Patricia, though he couldn't make out the words. However, when Penny began to cry and walked out of the room, Leonard's alert level increased. He pushed his chair back and stood up to follow her. "I'll be back in little while," he said to Fuller, who had glanced up with a question in her eyes. She nodded and turned back to her work as he headed for the door.

Penny had her hands pressed tightly against her face as tears trickled down. She opened her eyes as Leonard approached. "They found Emma," was all she said before she closed her eyes again.

Leonard stared out at the cloudy skies for a minute. "I'm sorry," he finally said. He left her standing there and re-entered the command centre. He took his seat again, but watched Patricia for a few moments. Her face was wooden as she went through her tasks, and he bit his lip a little before turning back to the screen in front of him.

Over the course of the next few hours, he swiveled his neck so many times to do a quick assessment that it started to ache a little. However, by lunchtime nothing had changed in her demeanour, and he didn't bring it up as they ate. Her motions were mechanical, automatic, as if she'd turned over control of her body to a robot. As they walked back to work, her hand clasped in his as usual, he spoke at last. "I'll go with you this afternoon."

She shook her head. "That isn't necessary."

He paused, pressing his other hand to surround the one he had in his grip. "Humour me," he said to her questioning gaze.

She turned back forward, a slight nod of acquiescence answering his request.

Upon returning to the command centre, Leonard sank back into his chair with a sigh. He'd already had to arrange Rob's funeral that morning. In some ways he just wished it would all be over.

* * *

The car ride to the mortuary seemed to take forever. Patricia stared out the window blankly, the scenery barely registering to her mind. She'd thought of having a funeral, but then realized—who would come? The girls had a few friends, of course, but she wasn't particularly close to any of their parents. At work, Penny was the only one who had gotten to know the girls over the years, and Patricia had generally been too busy to maintain friendships from earlier in her life. As for family, she was an only child, and John's one brother was estranged from the family; she hadn't seen him since she married John. He had lost his parents when young, and hers had never been in the best of health, succumbing to a bad case of the flu when the girls were still in primary school. She was alone, truly alone.

The vehicle came to a stop in the parking lot of the warehouse that served as a temporary mortuary for the area. Patricia got out and stood there for a moment, trying to build up the courage to go inside. Leonard came around from the other side of the car and placed one hand on the small of her back, waiting for her. The gentle pressure steeled her to face the sight inside, and she concentrated on walking, one foot in front of the other.

One of the mortuary team met her at the door. "Commissioner Nash, they're right this way," the woman said, leading her down a hallway to a small room. Inside, there were two metal tables with a body on each one. A white sheet was draped over them.

Patricia's eyes closed involuntarily. She couldn't look, couldn't see Claire and Emma lying cold and lifeless. Leonard's hand guided her to blindly take a few more steps.

"You can stay for as long as you need to," said the woman. "I'll be down the hall. You can find their personal effects in the plastic container by the door."

"Thank you," said Leonard, dropping his hand from Patricia's back. The door closed behind the woman with a loud click, and silence reigned. The only thing Patricia could hear was the sound of their breathing.

"I can't look," she said finally, voice shaky. "I can't bear to see them like that."

She heard Leonard shift position, and felt his hands grip her shoulders. "Yes, you can," he said. They stood there for a moment till she opened her eyes and looked up at him. His eyes reflected her sorrow, and he gave her shoulders a soft push as he released them.

She pulled back the nearest sheet and let her eyes finally rest on Claire, her eldest. Her hair was limp, the usual waves bedraggled. Patricia let out a sob; Claire had always taken such pride in doing her hair nicely. Her face was discolored but she was still recognizable.

Patricia pressed a hand to her face as she turned to the other table. She knew just from the smell in the room that this would be very difficult to see. She had seen the occasional body over her years as a police officer, but nearly all of them had died minutes before. The worst that she'd had to deal with were the images from the 7/7 bombings. She hadn't even had to see the bodies in person.

Her hand trembled as she began to pull the sheet away from Emma's head. Her hair was less blonde than brown, thanks to the grime in the water. Her face . . . there was nothing left that could be recognized. Patricia vaguely recognized the outfit, smeared with filth as it was. Her vision blurred as she turned away, trying vainly to find somewhere to look besides the awful scene around her. She covered her face with her hands. "I can't look anymore," she cried.

She sensed Leonard moving around her and heard the sheets being pulled back up. An arm wrapped around her shoulders and guided her; she walked wherever she was pulled. First to the door, where Leonard picked up the container, then out of the room and down the hallway towards the exit.

"You're finished, then?" called the voice from the woman earlier.

Patricia couldn't begin to clear her throat to speak; she was grateful when Leonard answered for her. "Yes. She has their personal effects now." He lifted the box, and their school IDs rattled in it.

"Any decision on which—"

"She'll call you later," Leonard said, cutting off the woman's question as he guided Patricia outside.

The sun hit her face, and she opened her eyes. The morning clouds had blown off, leaving a beautiful day behind them. The sun mocked her, shining brightly while Claire and Emma lay forever still. Tears streamed down her face as she got back in the car, and she put up no resistance as Leonard gradually pulled her into his arms. There was no denying it now; her daughters were dead. She would never again see them coming through the door, all bright eyes and lively faces. Everyone who had ever really mattered to her was gone; what was left for her now?


End file.
